Beautiful Lies

Just read an article a friend posted. These sentences, taken from the article, pretty much sum it up.


"When a 10-year-old...posted provocatively for French Vogue, the images sparked an international debate over the sexualization of children."


"A French senator issued a report aimed at stopping the “hyper-sexualization” of young children."

The article ended with this question: "Should it be the job of the government to stop the sexualization of girls?"

I'm not linking the article here because I don't want to further circulate this girl's picture, which is not particularly offensive [imo], but I believe that the implications the photo makes about her [and other young girls] is. Here are my thoughts: Cause - ya know, sometimes I just can't stay quiet.

Is it the government's job? No. It is the job of mothers and fathers to protect and love and nurture our children. It is our job to educate them. It is our job to shelter their innocent hearts - and prepare them, as they mature, for life as an adult. The responsibility falls on our shoulders, but so many of us have failed our children, leaving them vulnerable prey to wandering eyes, predatory greed and the dangerous lies our culture force-feeds them about beauty, value, image and self-worth.

Is she beautiful? Absolutely, and her beauty should not be peddled to selfish voyeurs - to wet their appetite for exploitation.

Shame on us for not only tolerating this treatment of children, but for endorsing it. It continues because it is profitable. Who makes it profitable? Society - Grown men and women who purchase the magazines and the products they advertise and who watch the pageant shows etc. We know better - or should.

I hope those who have the power to act legislatively, do so, but ultimately, it is our responsibility as parents and quite frankly, as morally responsible humans. Shame on us [adult society] for neglecting [and abusing] what is arguably our most significant position - the ones who are bringing up the future of this world.

All this comes after having taken my children to the grocery store today, where a magazine with an image of a fully nude woman [her legs and arms crossed] was displayed facing the main isle [not just the checkout line].

I think the naked human body is beautiful. But when it is cheaply displayed for 5.99 on the lower rack for my six year old son to view, and the only answer I get from the store management is "Well, did you use our marked "family-friendly" checkout?" - Hmmm...how do I put it? Have you ever known someone who is just gorgeous, then you really get to know the person and slowly they become less and less attractive? That is how I feel about it.

[By the way - Good to know that ONE of their 20 check out lines is "family-friendly", which, actually, I assumed meant it was okay if my children were crying while we stood in line there, I didn't realize it meant "porn-free" - although, like I said, the mag wasn't displayed in the line, it was facing the main isle for everyone to view.]

Soap box aside, "she" is lovely. She is also fake [photoshop-ed], but I'm sure lovely even without the editing. But you know what, that magazine cover - boldly displayed - caught my husband's eye [who pointed it out to me...and who, I should add, treats me very honorably], as it was intended to. Now, I'm a pretty girl [or so I'm told] but, come on, who can compete with digital perfection? When these images repeatedly demand our attention they set a false, unrealistic expectation or unattainable goal, leaving us with a feeling of dissatisfaction and/or failure. How can a woman's heart help but wonder if she could ever possibly satisfy his eyes and excite his passion when "she" is plastered everywhere we turn and her standard is no match for any natural creature?

She is on billboards, in movies, on television, on covers and centerfolds and window advertisements. She is in the music we listen to, she is in the conversations around us. She is hidden in our inboxes, text messages, and search engines. She stalks us until we finally accept her - she slips into our eyes and hides within our minds where she can begin to reshape our perspectives of ourselves and of others, for her own benefit. There, she is able to trample a path, through repetition, to lead us somewhere deep and dark where only the light she shines can comfort us, but it's a dim glow - we become unable to see what is around us, our eyes are on ourselves and her lies. Like bugs to a light - we are memorized, focused and ignorant...only to be destroyed. We are unhappy with ourselves. We no longer find pleasure in our spouse. Even our children can become objects to us, we sell their images for gain, and take advantage of their innocence. She is persistent and she has an agenda: money.

When every time I take my children to the store, they see images like this, 1. it prematurely exposes them to adult sexuality and 2. it begins to create in their minds a false ideal. It seduces us to believe that "she" [the sexual image on that piece of glossy paper] is worth chasing after - and how we become beautiful or conquer beauty. She is a lie, and lovely as she may be, the more I get to know her and the consequences of believing her and pursuing her...the uglier she is.

Men, she doesn't satisfy. She teases and tempts and draws your eyes away from what is real. Her satisfaction is cheap, like a Mc-whatever-your-favorite-grease-burger-supersized-meal-is...and it might fill your gut, but if that's your diet, it will eventually devastate you internally and lead you down a road to a plethora of ugly and degenerative diseases. You're depriving your self of nutrition and substance - and feeding yourself hidden toxins. She might taste good now...but she will not leave you un-scarred.

Not only that, but she is easy, she doesn't argue or need attention. You pick her up when it is convenient for you and put her down when you're done using her. She's cheap. She's attractive. Think about this though: if you stop exercising, your muscles grow weak. Stop working at relationships, and you stop maturing - can I be so bold as to call it cowardly? "She" might be an Internet site, a magazine, a woman but you treat "her" as an object. Men - you were not intended to love an object. It is a weak substitute. I've met a few men. I've met many grown boys. Tell me she has not befriended them - I'm all but certain she has.

Women - stop tolerating this. It is not okay. It is not okay for our girls to grow into their adulthood feeling unlovely and inadequate. It is not okay for our young men to enter into their adolencence with their minds muddled by distracting and destructive images. They become addicted and enslaved before they even have a chance to fight it.

Stop buying the magazines that shove lies about sexuality and beauty down our throats. Stop it. Even commercials and advertisements that applaud themselves for displaying a more realistic view of a woman's nude body cannot boast asserting the viewer's beauty. They are selling a product...usually intended to make you "prettier". The message is still that you are not good enough. It is a lie.

Women, love your man. Talk about these issues. Love him. Don't be naive. Everyday men - yes, even the men we love & respect - face this issue. Guaranteed.

Parents - Love your sons. Talk about these issues. Prepare him. Confront him - insist that he become a man and not continue his adulthood as a boy. Teach him to love and honor and respect the women in his life. Demand it. Demand that he treat women with kindness and gentleness - in both his action, and words - and encourage him to value women in his thoughts.

Love your girls. Protect them. Nurture them. We teach them by our actions as well as our words how to value themselves and how to expect to be treated by others. Be intentional. Let her know that she is beautiful. But also that her beauty is not written on her skin alone. It is within her heart. It is seen in her actions and in her words - in the way she views and treat others. Speak up. Address the images and advertisements around you. Talk about these issues - don't leave her to try to navigate through the cultural influences [driven by profit] on her own in the years she is learning who she is as an individual - be her mom - be her dad - love her.

Can you tell I'm passionate about this? I think it is kind of a big deal; I believe the issues surrounding these things affect far more of our lives than we acknowledge or readily recognize. Don't ignore it.

"Knock, Knock." "Who's There?" [conviction - that's who!]

As I pulled out my cosmetic bag from the cabinet in my bathroom, I heard a tiny knocking at the door [which I had very intentionally shut only moments before].

"Yes...who is it?" I questioned, slightly irritated.

I knew it was a long shot, but I had desperately wanted to isolate myself for a few minutes and get ready for the day ahead without noise, without interruption, without being pawed at and climbed upon, without anyone in my arms [or hanging on my pants, determined not to let go until they had been lifted up to my hip]. I achieved my goal for about .9 seconds.

"It's me." The tiny voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. This was my youngest. A sweet and vocal 18-month-old girl. I had expected an older voice from one of my other children to respond.

"Me who?" I asked, trying to buy myself another fraction of a second.

"Me."

"How are you, me?"

"Good."

"What do you need?"

"Ummm..." [Insert the most adorable little baby girl babble - that I am absolutely certain had a very specific meaning, but was unable to adequately decipher - here.] "....my Mom."

"You want to come in???"

"Mm-Hmm." She said it very quickly and matter-of-factly. Yes. I had understood her precious babble correctly. I'm out here, you're in there...I want to be in there too.

I couldn't help but to smile, and meet her at the door. I opened it and there she was, beaming up at me. I am her Mama. The poor darling doesn't even know any better than to adore me. If she had known that I had shut the door in an attempt to hide from her and her siblings, she had already forgiven me, and was delighted to sit and watch me for a few moments.

Of course, that didn't last long and she wanted to play with my make-up and brush her hair and empty any drawer she could reach.

But how could I resist her sweet knock at the door, or her enthusiastic, untranslatable plea to be included in the excitement in the bathroom that morning? I simply could not.

__________________________________________

Yesterday I held both the girls in my arms late in the evening, well past bedtime.

Those short hours after the kids fall asleep are my sanctuary. Once the constant demand for attention comes to a halt, I can begin to filter through my thoughts a little. I am able to accomplish the tasks that have been set aside all day. Who knew spending an hour washing dishes could be something to look forward to, huh? *sigh*

My little ones were not cooperating with my plan, however. Although one child had successfully fallen asleep, the other two were squirming on my lap. Sleepy, yet determined to be too hot, too cold, not comfy, a little scared...or the latest complaint, and one of my personal favorites..."kind of ticklish" and entirely unable to rest, I finally gave up and pulled them on my lap.

We all sat together, rocking and chatting and snuggling. Then came the wiggling and the stretching. My youngest was pulling at my shirt and petting my face, my older daughter squirmed and pushed her legs out, then back in...then out. She was rubbing my hand with her tiny fingers - over and over and over. I closed my eyes and assured myself that they would fall asleep any moment. "Take a breath. Let them snuggle." my inner mother coached. I love my girls, but there is only so much touching one can endure. It was now eleven. Way, way past acceptable bedtime delay tactic hours.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I turned to my older daughter. "You have to stop touching me." I said. She rubbed my cheek affectionately. I snapped. "Stop it! Stop it! You cannot touch me anymore!!" She stared blankly at me, my guess is that she was entirely unsure what to think of my reaction.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I love to snuggle with you, but I just need a little space."

I kissed her and she hopped off to bed. I tucked her in AGAIN [note the subtle tension] and eeked out the courage to hug and kiss her once more before I returned to hopefully successfully lull my baby to sleep.

As I sat there begrudgingly holding my little girl, I felt awful. "I am such a horrible mother," I thought. [You mothers understand the sort of criticisms we internally throw around.] As I wrestled through the self-inflicted blows, I came to the conclusion that in the end, I would rather be loved to the point of claustrophobia than to be untouched and lonely. I began to pray for others who might be desperately needing to be near someone else, and slowly...as I stopped being so consumed with how I felt or what I wanted, I began to pull my nearly sleeping baby closer. I was no longer holding her because I had to, I held her because she has been given to me to love.

Some days, I vaguely remember what it was like to wake up and have no concerns beside preparing myself for the day ahead of me. I miss it. I yearn to shower uninterrupted. I would love to sit down at the table with a cup of tea and slice of toast and just think - just be quiet for a little while. My reality is constant voices, constant needs, continuous questions, conflicts, correction and, of course, cuteness too.

Some days, I want to be alone. I think I need to get away and have some space. As much as I adore those tiny fingers, I dread the thought of them touching me one more time.

These are the memories I need to remind myself of. I must not get caught up in life and in my self and forget what wonderful treasures I have growing older every minute that I hold them in my arms. I cannot neglect the very important work of loving them. I must not forget to invite them in when they knock on the door, or to pull them onto my lap when they cannot sleep because they are "too ticklish". Perhaps I will just need to tickle them before bed and leave the bathroom door open.

Even though I love them more than I could ever put into words, I often fail.

I have so much more to learn about loving.
I am so thankful I get to learn with them.
I am thankful for little knocks on the door that interrupt me.
I am thankful for loving arms that squeeze me until I can't stand it anymore.
What lovely gifts I have been given.

Whirlwind...

[I posted this over at my education blog...and think it is fitting here too, so I'm re-posting.]

Life is a blur as of late...

Spring has sprung and everyone is restless, longing to drink in the sunshine. My kids grow bigger; and along with their increase in size comes an increase in appetites, a wider disaster radius post-playtime and continued development of independent thinking - consequently: more frequent arguments both with each other and myself. My husband has been diligently studying, excelling in all his classes; I am so proud!

L., my youngest, has started walking and is quickly graduating from that mundane skill to more exciting techniques for mobility...such as climbing. [Really, who wants to walk when you could just climb stuff, right?]

A few days ago I caught her sitting in the middle of the living room talking to herself, "No. Nooo. No. No Ma. No Mom. No. Mom. No no. Noooo." She was practicing telling me no. My heart was filled with delight at her sweet voice, pride for her working so intently to enunciate her words correctly...and slight trepidation as I considered the implications of her resolve to clearly communicate her defiance.

My oldest daughter is learning important and difficult lessons about the ugliness of lies. Meanwhile, her father and I are being tested in matters of patience and grace. She is also rapidly learning to read and write. She enjoys writing letters and often I find random letters on her schoolwork or art pages. Occasionally, her random letters happen to form words, much to her older brother's astonishment and delight. He is very impressed by her "skill" and they celebrate her accomplishment together with cheering, laughter and expressions of recognition: "Great job!" "Wow...you wrote ________!" "You are such a great speller!" This warms my spirit. I love to see my children loving and encouraging one another.

I am considering what to do for my son's education in the fall. Boarding school has been an attractive thought from time to time. New, unpleasant and frustrating phrases have been surfacing during our conversations lately; "It's not FAIR!" "I wish I had a different mom!" "Why do I have to...?!" I really dislike the attitude I see him developing and find myself praying often for an extra measure of love and grace to respond to it. While this new "big kid" personality dampens my excitement about home-educating in the coming school year, it also deepens my resolve to guide him, to instruct him, teach and correct him so that issues of character, discipline and integrity may be swiftly addressed and corrected, deterring poor attitude from developing into bad habits and unpleasant personality in later years.

I am just taking it all in. At moments, reminding myself to pause to breathe or to resist the temptation to react. Other times, digging deep to find motivation to tackle the dishes and laundry, or to mom-up and confront the arguing coming from the kids' room [instead of hiding in the pantry with a bar of chocolate pretending not to hear it]. Occasionally, ignoring those tasks that seem so pressing and important, but will still be there tomorrow and just holding my baby a little longer while she sleeps, or sitting on the floor playing dolls, or pulling out a messy art project to do TOGETHER or attacking my children with kisses and tickles while they still enjoy it - I know it will not last forever.

This season is full of unique joys and difficulties...and so will be the next. This is a sweet sort of whirlwind to be caught up in.

A Birthday Party for Boomer

Boomer is our puppy. Well, more specifically, my son's puppy. OK...even more specifically - he is a stuffed animal puppy. He's pretty cute, spotted brown with floppy ears; he's a typical toy dog and he has captivated my little guy's heart - well, as much as a stuffed puppy should.

My son has been telling me for the last several days that it is almost Boomer's birthday. To which I have smiled and nodded, "MmmHmmm...that's nice, darling..." then continued on with whatever task I was engaged in at that moment. I mean, really, how enthusiastic can one get over a pretend birthday for a pretend puppy?! 

But a couple hours ago it occurred to me that this was really meaningful to my son. He knows it is not REALLY Boomer's birthday, but he is having so much fun imagining all the excitement and anticipation of celebrating with his toy. Yet I had not yet stopped to really acknowledge his enthusiasm...let alone join him in it.

As we tucked our oldest kids into bed tonight, my son excitedly crawled under his covers and announced [for like the fifteenth time today...] that tomorrow was Boomer's birthday. Right as I could feel my internal eyes rolling in irritation over this repeated announcement and my inner self yawning with calloused uninterest in it, I felt the Lord urging me to care about Boomer's birthday.

Weird, huh?

I mean, aren't there bigger issues to pour out my thoughts and attention on?  The dinner dishes are yet to be washed, I have two laundry baskets full of clothes that need to be folded. Not to mention, big things [...like my husband working long and hard toward landing a job in a new career...like world news headlines of unrest and violence in the middle east...like stories of realities men, women and children face each day in distant places - realities I cannot even begin to fully grasp - and asking hard questions, like "why"...these sorts of "big issues"] seem to demand my attention and thoughts. How can I possibly endure playing along with my five-year-old's puppy party, when I really have other things I need to take care of - things that are, uh...real. 

No sooner did these thoughts flutter through my heart and mind then HE gently put them to rest.

My participation was not about celebrating Boomer; it was about joining my son and enjoying the thing he enjoyed alongside him. Stepping down from the busy concerns of my adult world to give attention to something that was meaningful and important to him...and thereby expressing to him that he is important to me. I have been neglecting to respond to him the way he's been begging me to all day...with a reciprocated excitement about this event that he was so delighted by. 

So, after a moment or two of sulking in remorse over what a lame mom I am, God gave me the brilliant idea to throw Boomer a surprise party. 

I found a couple greeting cards and my husband and I both wrote little notes to Boomer inside one card.  We were intentional about directing our messages to Boomer, but indicating our love for our son through them. I included sentiments such as, "I'm so glad that _____ has such a wonderful puppy to play with!" - and so on. Then I found a puppy sticker and taped it to the card, so Boomer would be able to stick it to something.

The second card was from Boomer's best friends, a pink and white puppy named Buster and the newest member of the club, Jackson [he was a Christmas present].  Buster and Jackson left a message inside the card and beside their names, each one signed with a paw print. 

My MIL had a small packaged Hostess-type cake, which she gave to me for the occasion and I topped it with colorful sprinkles and a candle, placed it on a plate and then into the oven in my children's play kitchen. 

On our kitchen table I arranged a group of animals my children play with most, along with a note that says:

"SURPRISE!! Happy Birthday Boomer! All your friends came to celebrate with you!"

And beneath that another note that explains the other items on the table [more on those in a minute] and directs Boomer to look inside the play kitchen oven for another surprise [his cake].  Buster and Jackson are sitting off to the side, holding their card, which also contains a small gift inside. And in the center of the table are four helium balloons, leftover from a visit from my parents several weeks ago. [I tell you what, helium balloons are a BIG hit with kiddos...and these have lasted for weeks!]

Also on the table are various items; I selected several books to read [PB Bear's Birthday and a book about pets], a puzzle [a giant "Pets" floor puzzle by Melissa & Doug], a game [Turtle Picnic - love that game], a movie [Clifford's Best Friends], and a stack of birthday and party related coloring pages I tore from a coloring book [along with a box of crayons].  These are all activities my kids can do on their own [with the rest of the party guests, aka their stuffed animals]...so my son will be able to participate in throwing the party for Boomer too.

And guess what? I had fun doing it!  I enjoyed the divergence from those heavy and daunting concerns and tasks...which, by the way, will always be there - you can't just check them off a list, they don't ever really go away. I was giddy as I thought about how surprised and thrilled my son will be when he wakes up tomorrow and finds the surprise party for Boomer. And I was humbled to consider how often God stoops down to care about the insignificant things I get excited or anxious about. Sure, there are much bigger issues in the world for Him to give His attention to...but He takes time to acknowledge me.  He hears me when I pray. He cares about my son...and cared enough to cause me to pause and consider his imaginative play and his perspective. He asked me to take time to prepare a celebration and set up a party for a stuffed animal: because He wants my son to know he is loved. 

This humbles me greatly.

I so often overlook those opportunities that appear insignificant; and all the while valuable moments pass by and I invest in something less worthy.  O for eyes to see His view when I look at my children, and others around me.

Is there someone you need to pause a moment [and maybe even be a little bit silly] to love today?

So in Love...

I could just stare at her for hours. She is amazing, precious, adorable, wonderful; a pure delight. Her sparkling blue eyes captivate and her perfect smile full of life and wonder melt my heart into a puddle of mushy love. Her sweet baby cooing is music to me...soft and spectacular. I lay her in my lap facing upward, and cradle her in both arms...and we gaze and smile at one another; whispering soft sounds back and forth. She grips my aging hand with her delicate little fingers. I brush me cheek against her soft face...and tickle her neck with my kisses. Oh - there is nothing in the whole world like those sweet baby kisses! We snuggle and kiss and coo some more and she smiles as her eyelids grow heavy and begin to slowly fall. Soon she is still; her only movement is the rhythmic rise and fall of her tiny chest and all I hear is the comforting sound of her breathing.

And I sit here in awe.

This is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I am so in love.

Can't Stop Crying

Each of my older children has a journal. My 2 year old mostly just colors in hers...although she pretends to write. She will even "sound out" words and say various letters as she "writes". She can make an "O"...so many words end up "oooo".

My 5 year old has been writing in his since he was 4. I really find it challenging to read phonetically sometimes. It's great not only to see him interested in writing, but it's so special to peer into his little heart and mind at a new angle. I think he is able to express his thoughts with more clarity when he writes than he is verbally. Sometimes what he writes makes me laugh...sometimes it melts my heart, and occasionally, it causes me to take a step back and take a painfully honest look at myself, and my interaction with him.

This is one of those entries that kind of grips me. It catches me and forces me to think about how I am parenting.

"I can't stop crying right away."

My son is, well, dramatic...and emotional. I'm not sure if it's his age, life changes that are happening in the family...or just his personality - or maybe something else. However, it. is. so. painful...for him, for my husband and I...for his siblings.

He has developed a tendency to respond to situations he dislikes with high pitched crying and screaming. Recently, we have determined to take a "zero tolerance policy" approach to it. It's just not ok for him to yell. Whether it's a loud sad wailing or an angry outburst...he is punished whenever he chooses that behavior.

While I think this is good, I also realized that sometimes he just needs to be removed from the situation and given time to consider what transpired. Often I just expect and demand that he stop...right now. And although I think he is able and must learn to discipline himself in that way...sometimes he needs some space and some time to cry and be sad. Not to yell and be hysterical - that I won't tolerate...but I need to allow him some space to express his emotions in a healthy way. It's my job to correct his poor behavior, but also to guide him and show him how to appropriately express his thoughts and emotions, not just to train him to suppress them, although that skill is also important.

Sometimes we all just need a good cry.

Shot Down

Tonight my 5 year old son was playing video games with dad. Dad had to step away to take care of something for a moment, so I thoughtfully offered to take his place, so our son wouldn’t need to wait for him.

My son, who was sitting next to me on the couch, just looked at me amused. And with a knowing look in his eye and a tone in his voice that could have easily passed for pity, he smiled and said, “Um, no thanks Mom. You don’t know how to play this. This is a hard level – any level will be too hard for you.” And as he spoke, he leaned over and kissed my cheek, as though to soften the blow and heal any wound he may have been inflicting upon me. “Maybe you can just start with Mario Kart. That one you might be able to figure out.” I could do nothing, but nod in agreement.

*sigh*






I am good at other stuff, you know.

Sometimes I Just Don't Really Love You

Every once in a while my persistence pays off...

Like last night, at 3:00 in the morning.

"Mom...Mom." My 2 year old daughter called from her room.

I was already awake with my 10 week old baby.  "Yes, darling?"

"Um...well, um, sometimes I just don't really love you."

!!!  Really?  At 3 in the morning, THIS is what you yell across the room to me?  [Thank you, sweetheart.]  "Yes you do."  I calmly replied.

"No, no...sometimes, well, sometimes I really just don't."  the sweet, little voice insisted.

"Yes, you do love me."

"No..." She said with a high and then low sing-songy voice, "No-oh..." [do you know what I'm talking about?] "I do-on't" [again the up and down sing-songy for "don't"]

How can someone be so adorable and mean at the same time?!

"Yes, you always love me.  Now go to sleep, darling."

"Well, Mom, um sometimes I do love you."  [almost apologetically, as though not wanting to completely discourage me]

"I know you do, darling.  Good-night."

............................long pause...........................

"Well, actually Mom, I do love you!"

"Yes, sweetheart.  And I love you too.  Good-night."

"Good-night, Mom."

My Evening Went Like This...

5:00 PM:

Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever one of my children bursts into a high pitched whiney yell: "Mooooooommmm!!! I'm hungryyyyyy!"

Me: "Um, Okay. I'd be happy to make you dinner, but it's not ok for you to speak to me like that."

My child then whimpers an equally whiney, "ooookaaay..." and pretends not to know better than to speak the way he did. This is where my second child enters the scene and begins to beg to watch a movie.

Me: "No. It's dinnertime. Mom's going to make dinner and you and your brother need to clean up the mess you made doing crafts."

First child [still whining] demands, "Whyyy??? Why do I have to clean it up?"

Me: "Because it's your mess and Mom is going to make dinner."

My children then walk away pouting and plop themselves on the floor in the middle of the mess and proceed to argue about who has to pick up which piece of paper on the floor. So, far no one has put away anything...and the disagreement escalates to screaming and crying, at which point I intervene, more for my own sanity than any other reason.

"STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!"

I handled it very calmly and rationally and set a great example for them.

"STOP YELLING AT EACH OTHER!!!!!"

[Yes, that was sarcasm before. It was not my finest moment. Oh, but it gets worse.]

After threatening, [and almost hoping they would continue to ignore my instructions so I could follow through] to send them to bed immediately if the 10 pieces of paper, 1 pair of scissors, and 2 glue sticks were not properly put away within the next 2 minutes, child #1 very reluctantly dragged himself around and accomplished the task, all the while complaining that child #2 wasn't doing it. Child #2 picked up 1 piece of paper just to prove him wrong no doubt and then returned to sprawling out on the dirty kitchen floor while I'm attempting to finish dinner with my 9 week old baby in arms.

I set baby down, [I needed both hands for a moment] and now baby is screaming. Child #1 is upset that baby is screaming and demands I pick baby up. At the same time, child #2 is notifying me that she does not at all like my choice of food for dinner and has absolutely no intention of eating any of it. I let her know I'm sorry that she doesn't particularly care for what I made, then instruct her that regardless, she will most certainly be eating some of it.

At this point child #1 asks "what?" I reply that I was speaking to his sister. He demands to know what I said. I reply that I was not speaking to him and he didn't need to know. He begins to yell about me not telling him and that he's mad because he couldn't hear what I said and he wants to know. I tell him to sit down and be "QUIET!"

I serve the meal...and the entire time, child #1 is requesting permission for activities he would like to do after dinner, to which I respond that he needs to finish dinner first and then we will discuss it. "Okay" he replies, and then proceeds to ask again. Child #2 is dropping food onto the floor and complaining that she doesn't like it and "will not eat it at all". "Fine,” I say, “but you will be hungry and I will not be giving you anything else to eat tonight."

Child #2: "Okay."
Child #1: begins screaming and crying "No! No! You can't...she's going to be HUNGRY!!!"

Meanwhile, I'm trying to eat my dinner while nursing the baby who is flailing and crying because she needs to burp, so I lift her up to burp her and that's more painful for her, so now she's screaming. Her discomfort escalates for about 10 minutes or so until she finally pukes all over the both of us and is now ready to nurse again.

The phone rings, and while I'm on the phone, child #2 decides to continue playing with and complaining about her dinner, but not really eating it.

Dinner is cleared eventually, and both children ended up eating at least most of it. I washed the dishes [with baby in my arms...yes, even the pots...I'm just that talented.] and child #1 is now playing a video game, while child #2 is watching. Baby falls asleep in my arms and I gingerly lay her down in her car seat, hoping she will rest long enough so I can squeeze in a shower. [Not only had I not showered yet today, but was also now covered in spit-up.]

At this point I decide to get children 1 & 2 ready for bed and instruct child #2 to go potty. She argues and eventually meanders her way to the bathroom, then sits down and plays. I walk by the bathroom and remind her again to stop playing and go potty. She responds with a snippy, "I am." [And continues to play]

Child #1 demands my attention, I honestly can't remember why, but I adressed him. 

Then, as I turn back around to deal with child #2, she announces with a panicked voice, "Mom, I did not ruin my big girls." [translation: I definitely peed my pants because I was ignoring you and being defiant and now I really wish I had listened because I know I'm in huge trouble.]

We stare at each other for a moment...
Look down at the puddle by her feet...
Look up at each other again...

She says, "Mom, I will not do it again."

Me: nothing. I just breathe. I have no energy left for anything else.

I put her in the bathtub and instruct her to remove her clothing. Then go and get some rags and cleaner to take care of the puddle.

Child #1 is now running back and forth across the house. I ask him to stop, noting that his baby sister is sleeping and I would like her not to be woken up and reminding him that I never let him run in the house anyways. To which he says, "Ok". And I return to my cleaning.

The mess is now cared for and Child #2 has undressed herself quite unhappily. [Apparently mom should be the one to touch the wet and dirty clothing, not her.] Now I hear crying in the other room. Baby is awake. And I also hear thundering footsteps across the kitchen floor. Then I hear it again.

Child #1 is questioned, and indeed he had continued to run through the house. Yes, he fully understood that he had been instructed not to. Yes, he knew it was going to wake up baby. And no, he wasn't going to run anymore. He is then informed that he needs to put away his video game and will not be playing anymore tonight as a punishment for disobeying me. To this he responds with a passionate, "WAHHHHHHHH!!!!" And begins yelling, "WHY MOM?!" over and over, between the "WAhh!"s.

Now I move crying baby's car seat into the bathroom and turn on the water for Child #2 who is now naked and cold. She doesn't like the water on her and screams at the top of her lungs..in the shower...in the bathroom...and it echoed. Nice. Now baby is deaf. [Probably not really, but I was almost wishing I could go temporarily deaf for the remainder of the night.]

I calm her down and realize that child #1 is still screaming. So I put away the game for him, then inform him that he will not be playing for a week now. Naturally, he screams louder. I spank him and send him to his room.

I gather pjs for child #2 and remove her from the shower. Baby is now crying and child #1 is now quiet.  I talk with him about why he was being punished.

I wait for baby to fall back asleep and then shower...finally.

It's now 7:00 and I brush teeth for children 1&2. Child #1 decides his face is dirty and uses a washcloth to clean it off. Then he looks at child #2 and determines her face is also dirty, and proceeds to clean it for her. Child #2 dislikes it and screams. Since baby is still in the bathroom with us all, she wakes up. Child #1 is crying because child #2 is crying and baby is crying because our house is INSANE!

I want to cry...but don't...yet.

I yell at child #2 for yelling [brilliant, mom, brilliant, yell at them for yelling...that's some great parenting there.] [again, sarcasm] and rush children 1&2 off to bed, kiss them quickly and reluctantly, force out an "I love you." to each of them, and then go to comfort hysterical baby...who is wet and needs her diaper changed.

I sit down with fussy baby and nurse her. She again needs to burp, so I hold her up, to which she cries, I lay her down, she cries louder. We continue trying various positions for about 15 minutes until finally she burps, spits up chunky milk all down my chest and clean pajamas and bobs her head searching for something more to eat.   And then she poops and her diaper leaks on us both. 

I just breathe.


I think I need to pray.  And then wash some laundry.

Flowers From A Boy

Last week, my husband took our son for a bike ride.  When they returned, my son ran to the door yelling with excitement, "Mom, Mom, look, I brought something for you!!!"  And in he ran with his hands full of little purple flowers. 

Certainly one of the most beautiful bouquets I've ever received.  I love those moments!

Quieted By Love

"waaaa...waaa....waaaaaaa!"

I circled the house for the fifteenth time or so [that sounds longer than it actually took...those of you who've been here understand.], bouncing her gently in my arms and whispering soothing sounds in her ear as I rubbed her back and nuzzled her head with my cheek. Still, the only response she gave was screaming.

Behind us trailed my sweet little shadow, Rachel. In her incredibly heart-melting 2 year old voice, she was also attempting to comfort her tiny little sister, "Oh...you poor, sweet litttle love. Oh, darling, you're ok - your mommy's got you. Sweet baby, I'm so sorry you're hurting. You'll be ok, you can do it - you're a tough little honey." I smiled. And likely blushed a little - apparently this is what I sound like...although most certainly not as adorable. Rae's cheerful encouragements were just as ineffective as my own efforts. But we both continued in our attempts as we proceeded back and forth across the living room.

After a man-sized belch, and a fair amount of spitup in my hair and down both of our chests, she was finally comfortable. And now, exhausted, she quieted. Her previously restless arms and legs now relaxed and she gripped my arm with her tiny hand and laid her head on my shoulder.

Moments later...more crying. I sat down.  Rae had returned to playing.  I leaned forward, with Lily resting on my legs and took her head in my hands, gently stroking her face with my thumbs.  I bent further and pressed my lips against her ear and continued to whisper lovingly to her and kiss her ... whisper ...kiss ...whisper ...kiss.  Her frantic, painful cries slowed a mournful whimpers...momentarily.  This carried on for a time - cries, comfort...whimpers....cries.  The cycle eventually ended and I sat staring at this beautiful little creature wondering how she could possibly be producing such intense noise all on her own...and wishing I knew how to better soothe her discomfort.

"The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:19

He will quiet you with His love.

I am awestruck by this, as I consider it in light of my own experience with LilyMae.

As I experience the difficulties, pains, trials and discomforts of life...He sees.  He hears.  He holds me in His hands and whispers encouragements and love gently into my life. It still hurts.  But when I pause long enough to hear His voice above my own tearful cries and notice His touch despite my panicked flailing... I am able to rest a moment - quieted by His comforting love.

I'm reminded of Rachel's words to Lily, "You're ok - your mommy's got you."

I'm ok...He is holding me.  And unlike myself - who is actually relatively helpless to resolve my daughter's discomfort - regardless of what I so confidently whisper to my children in their distress - He IS mighty to save.  And He will save us...those of us who accept His love.  Although, not always in the ways or timimg we would like.  He will hold us through it all and quiet us with His love...aching with us as He sees our pain...delighting in us...rejoicing over us with singing. How amazing is THAT?! :)